


My Enterprise

by bioplast_hero



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Space Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioplast_hero/pseuds/bioplast_hero
Summary: I've got some good miscommunication tension lined up for this fic, brace yourselves for the ride!





	1. Data's Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> I've got some good miscommunication tension lined up for this fic, brace yourselves for the ride!

"Come over here, Data," Geordi said, laughing. "No, nope, I'm sorry, Data, that is not the right look for you."  
"But it is a costume, Geordi," Data pointed out obliquely. "It is not supposed to be 'my look' in any sense. I am supposed to look like someone else."  
"Sure, yes, but we're talking about Deanna's birthday party. Think 'light-hearted cocktail party with amusing characters.' How about picking something more... fun?"  
"I understand. My character lacks the characteristics that make someone 'interesting company' at a party."  
"Exactly! So, let's think: who would Deanna invite to a dinner party?"  
"I find that since I am not sure what Deanna finds amusing, I am rather at a loss. Query: what is your costume going to be, Geordi?"  
The engineer looked at the floor with a bashful smile.  
"Oh, I figured I would kill two birds with one stone. I lost a bet a few weeks ago, and to settle it I promised to dress up as a character from the Ancient American West."  
"That will be quite amusing, Geordi. I had forgotten about her fascination with fiction depicting that era. I wonder whether she is interested in other Terran historical periods. The Medieval period, for instance, or the Ancient Celts?"  
"Scotland!" Geordi laughed hard. "Well, I don't know about Deanna, my friend, but I would pay money to see you in a kilt."  
Data quirked an eyebrow, drawing peels of laughter from his human friend.  
"I have to interpret that if it is that funny, I would be making a fool of myself. I think I will decline."  
Data ducked into the bedroom to change out of this latest a costume. Geordi continued the conversation from the dining room.  
"Suit yourself. But when my birthday comes around, you have an idea to start with." He laughed again.  
For years now Data could easily tell when Geordi was enjoying himself, but lately Data was becoming aware of when he enjoyed something himself. He had quickly found that he enjoyed Geordi's enjoyment a great deal; spending time with him was his favorite part of the week.  
Still, he was certain that he did not entirely 'get the joke' when it came to kilts.  
Data walked out wearing his uniform trousers and standard-issue undershirt. He found Geordi sitting in an armchair in the living area. He looked surprised at what Data was wearing.  
"No more outfits?"  
"I have tried all of the costumes I had prepared, and we eliminated them all. I am no closer to having a plan. You must help me, Geordi."  
"OK, you're right, we need to figure this out. Well, Deanna doesn't know that much about old Earth history. She's more into fictional characters than real figures. And she likes people who are, um, confident. You know, witty, and charming."  
"Ah, such as the kind of man she finds attractive. But then, to impersonate that character, I would have to be charming."  
"Hey, you are charming," Geordi responded sincerely.  
Data was surprised. "Thank you, Geordi. Only, I do not think that is an adjective most people would use to describe me, especially not when I am attempting wit or social grace. I believe the effect is often just the opposite."  
"You are your own worst critic. You're charming right now," he said sincerely. "You just overthink it sometimes."  
Data looked at him curiously. Geordi's attention and encouragement 'felt' pleasant in ways that he was only beginning to understand. He moved to sit across from him on the sofa.  
"If you say so, Geordi. But if you are suggesting that I go as Commander Riker, I think that would be awkward."  
Laughter bubbled up out of Geordi; he was every bit as surprised as he was amused.  
"Data, you... you just made your first joke! I mean, your first good one. Huh, wow. What's gotten into you?"  
"I have been developing a new program."  
"A humor program?"  
"No, an emotion program."  
"Wait, really?" Geordi was suddenly on the edge of his seat. "How? I mean, how does it work?"  
Data contemplated where to begin. "You are aware that human memory is enhanced specifically when memories are tied to strong emotion?"  
"Sure, yes."  
"I remember every detail of every moment of my life with perfect clarity. Nonetheless, some memories carry more ‘weight’ than others; I access them more frequently, presumably because they are significant to me on a cognitive level. But the specific memories on which I focus are sometimes unexpected. For example, when Captain Picard defended my sentience in court, my most accessed memories from that event are of his and Commander Riker's facial expressions during the Captain's closing argument. And more than the event itself, I fixate on the party the crew held for me afterwards, when my commission was reinstated. I struggle to make sense of this."  
"Well, that's not so strange, Data. You have social needs, regardless of emotion. It seems like you might reference memories for their social importance as much as for any more concrete purpose."  
"I agree to an extent, Geordi, but it goes beyond that. For years I have failed to account for the layer of my experiences that occur beyond the facts. There was something else about which I could not make logical sense. What I discovered recently is that my thoughts are patterned in ways that are, as you would say, 'more than the sum of their parts.' My internal processes are affected in discernible ways when storing a range significant memories. These patterns describe a level of my experience that is not present in the remembered events themselves. Then whenever I access those memories, these patterns exhibit themselves again, in subtly altered forms."  
"So, data about the data? Metadata?"  
"Yes. Recently I sought evidence of these patterns with new stimuli, and found that my thoughts exhibit a range of these patterns in the moment as well. Actually, there are many more patterns in active memory than what I observed accessing a range of significant memories in permanent storage."  
"Okay, Data, but... I don't get it yet. What does this operational data have to do with the emotion program?"  
"The metadata represents how I 'feel' about the stimuli I am processing."  
Geordi's jaw dropped open for a long second.  
Data continued, "I hesitate to refer to 'feeling' or 'emotion' as such, but I lack a more nuanced vocabulary for these experiences. I require a vocabulary more particular to my species. I am talking about what you might call android emotions, not human emotions."  
"Sure, okay.... I mean, you don't have to convince me that 'android emotions' is something. I'd believe that in a second," Geordi said. "I just don't see how you finally made this leap. When you never saw it before. You have been adamant..."  
"That is a fair observation; I have not been receptive to this potential when you have raised it. And my understanding of the available information was not progressing whatsoever with the premise that I had no capacity for emotion. Do you recall what Doctor Bashir said to me about my 'vision'?"  
"Yeah, that a machine can't dream or hallucinate, but then again most machines don't breath, grow their hair, or have a pulse. And what's the harm, anyway, in exploring it as a dream and seeing where that leads?"  
"So, thinking of that, I began my examination with a new premise: I considered many definitions of emotion, and in this new light I thought it did not seem so impossible that I might experience it. The most relatable definition is that of 'an intense mental state that arises spontaneously rather than through conscious effort, often accompanied by physiological changes.' I certainly had involuntary, and sometimes intense, mental states. I only lacked a schema to define what they meant, and the associated outward responses.  
"The breakthrough was finding that many of my thought patterns align with human emotional concepts that I have come to understand with sufficient experience. Take the emotion of grief; when I have lost someone important to me, I experience a series of thought patterns, the most prominent of which I named 'grief' because that is what it most closely resembled. That pattern was always there, everywhere that it should appear in my memories; it never appeared where it should not appear. Now that I understand that, I will experience that feeling when the circumstances occur again."  
Geordi frowned. "And other feelings too, I hope?"  
"Yes. So far I recognize grief, worry, discomfort and disappointment, as well as enthusiasm, contentment, amusement, wonder and joy."  
"Now that's more like it," Geordi smiled.  
"And humor has been a very strange discovery. It is no wonder that it confounded me for years. I realized that I could detect a certain kind of pleasant discomfort when someone has made what I recognize as a joke. I have never heard someone describe humor in this way, and yet that has been my experience of it in the last few days."  
"Days? Wait, I figured that you had been working on this program for, well, longer than that."  
"I have been writing the program for eight days, twenty hours and eleven minutes. As I develop a theory about a new feeling, I test it and then decide whether to write it into the program. I recognized my first experience with humor two days twelve hours ago, when Commander Riker made a joking remark to Worf on the Bridge. Once I knew what I was looking for, I detected humor more frequently, even when others did not react to it in ways I could perceive. So now I know what it feels like when I am amused."  
"More than that, Data. Two days and you're already making jokes yourself!"  
"I realized that making a joke could be as simple a matter as having a thought that amused me, determining it was appropriate to share at that moment, and wagering that it might amuse the person I'm speaking with."  
"Well, I'd say that whatever you're writing, it's working."  
"Yes, it is," Data said proudly. "Until recently I thought I would never understand these patterns without access to human emotion. But even the human emotion chip that my father designed must be based on something akin to what I have discovered; otherwise it would produce a facsimile of emotions based on prescribed norms, as opposed to manifesting what I am truly feeling. I now believe my father must have known what I have recently discovered; that I could never have experienced feeling without the accumulation of my own unique patterns of thought."  
Geordi smiled enormously.  
"Is this when I get to say I told you so?" Geordi chuckled.  
Data nodded.  
"Then here: I always told you so."  
"I have never been so pleased to be proven wrong in my whole life," Data beamed.  
"About your costume, Data. Let's revisit 'charming,' okay? How about a real surprise for everybody?"  
"Such as?"  
"Oh I have just the thing. You know Will is planning this whole thing, right? We need to go talk to him. You're going to need a jazz band."


	2. Ten Forward

When the doors to Ten Forward opened, Deanna was greeted by music and the happy chatter of her good friends. Worf and Alexander greeted her by the door. She had helped plan Alexander's costume, but she was glad to see that Worf had pulled it off; the boy wore a martial artist's robes in miniature, his hair and eyebrows were tinted gray, and he worse a false beard that came to a long point. The child looked for all the world like a very old, very small man who practiced the ancient warrior's arts.  
At least until he unleashed his giddy smile. Then the affect was somewhere between child and child-at-heart. Deanna was tickled.  
Worf was at his side looking as though he were the younger man by at least two generations. He was outfitted in a complete samurai warrior's costume. It was the only costume she had managed to persuade him to be neither ridiculous nor completely pointless. He could appreciate honoring great warriors of any culture.  
Of course, the Klingon may yet have put up a fight against the notion of a costume party, had she tried it only a year or even a matter of months ago. But Deanna had asked nicely and he was inclined to please his inamorata in most any way he could. There had been indications for weeks of something more tender, more intimate on his mind. After he asked last week for Commander Riker's permission to court her—which of course Will revealed to her—Worf made his intentions very clear.  
Deanna had found in herself a depth of feeling for the Klingon which she had not recognized before. She gazed at him now and he at her, fire in his eyes. Their courtship wasn't exactly public knowledge, but it would quickly become so if they kept greeting each other like this.  
She swept Alexander into a low hug as he ran at her. The young Klingon had long since outgrown carrying by any human woman or man. Worf approached her an said good evening, courteous and chaste. She wrapped him in a gentle embrace, her hands and arms covered in long black satin gloves that matched her gown. As she pressed her ear to his armored chest he returned the hug gently, actively restraining his ardor.  
"You look amazing," she said with warmth. "It's the only birthday gift I wanted." She released him and smiled again. He was about to reply but lost his chance.  
"Deanna!" Beverly's voice made them both turn.  
The Doctor wore one of those 23rd century Starfleet uniforms, panel clipped to the shoulder and belted with a very short skirt. Deanna laughed loudly and moved quickly to hug her.  
"Yes, I know. How did the women of our profession ever get any work done in these outfits? Oh but, Deanna, you look radiant. Breakfast at Tiffany's was always one of my favorites. Let me see you."  
Deanna gave a little twirl in her sumptuous ankle-length dress, her imitation diamonds glittering from her neck and ears. More diamonds glittered from her upswept coif, and of course those satin gloves graced her arms well past the elbow. Beverly clapped with enthusiasm while Worf, eyeing her appreciatively, remained silent.  
Captain Picard approached them in an expedition cap and a tan civilian ensemble. Clearly an archaeologist, of the adventuresome sort. He handed her a small wrapped parcel. "Happy birthday, Deanna," he smiled.  
"Captain, I object; I said no gifts."  
"Well sometimes the Captain makes his own rules. Open it."  
"Yes, sir," she saluted with a grin. Tearing the pale yellow paper she found a very old book. It was both expected and unexpected. It was a nineteenth century copy of an early American novel about the Ancient West. In fact, this story in particular was one of her favorites of the genre.  
"How did you know?"  
"I have my sources. And you know I can't resist giving a really old book," he jabbed at himself with good humor. Beverly even jabbed at him slightly with her elbow to emphasize the point. Everyone laughed.  
Deanna greeted Ensign Ro in her usual uniform, chatting with Geordi who looked adorable and self-conscious in his cowboy getup. Geordi seemed to think it wasn't fair Ro would get away without a costume.  
"This is my costume, Geordi," the Bajoran said flatly. "I am myself, in a parallel universe where this conversation never happened."  
Barclay was also there, smiling nervously. He was dressed in beige and wearing what appeared to be a bicycle wheel hanging from his shoulders across his chest.  
"Let me guess," Beverly said dryly. "Third wheel?" Barclay nodded vigorously and took another drink of synthehol.  
All the while, music came swinging from a live trio playing on a small raised platform at one end of the room. Will Riker was with them, dressed as some sort of pirate with boots, eyepatch and bandana. No wonder he had been growing his beard. The costume was a bit less-than-coherent considering his choice to pair it all with his loud pink silk shirt from Risa, but it made Deanna chuckle to herself, which was probably the point. Between tunes Will whispered something to the bass player and pointed to his trombone on the stand. Deanna beamed with anticipation of whatever he had in mind. This would be great fun.  
Guinan came by in a bloody apron and character heels, wielding a gory knife and a tray of refreshments. She described herself as a murderous housewife and then extended the tray to the assembled guests. Deanna accepted a mocktail.  
Deanna looked around. "Is Data coming?"  
Worf frowned. "It is strange he is not here. Data is nothing if not punctual."  
"Oh, he'll be here," Geordi said casually. "He's probably just making an entrance."  
Deanna raised a questioning eyebrow.  
Will walked to the front of the bandstand and cleared his throat, grabbing hold of an old-fashioned microphone on a metal stand.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, cads and gals," he addressed the crowd, "it is my honor to welcome you to Tipitina's, the best club ever to grace New Orleans. And we have a very special guest with us tonight. May I present the fabulous, mysterious, the implacable, unflappable Madame Deanna—ahem, I mean Audrey—whose birthday is this very day. This little tune is in her honor."  
Will smiled widely and nodded for the band to hit it.  
The lights dimmed all but a spotlight on the stage, and band started playing a swinging jazz tune, Will left the mic and took up the trombone, launching into an improvised entrance solo. The crowd clapped and cheered with delight and Will ate it up.  
When the doors to Ten Forward opened, in walked a character looking for all the world like Frank Sinatra. He wore his hat angled low on his face. But not everyone was fooled; a telepath could spot an android anywhere. Deanna made a sound of surprise, her voice lost in the din. "Data?"  
A spotlight gave him away just as he tipped up his hat and began singing.  
  
_You're just too marvelous, too marvelous for words._  
  
Data danced his way from the door to the stage, crooning the words to that old Earth song.  
  
_Like 'glorious,' 'glamorous' and that old standby 'amorous';_  
_It's all too wonderful, I'll never find the words;_  
_That say enough, tell enough, I mean they just aren't swell enough;_  
_You're much too much, and just too 'very, very';_  
_To ever be in Webster's Dictionary._  
  
Captain Picard laughed whole-heartedly. Leave it to Data to pick the rare 20th century love song that toys with lists of vocabulary. It was absolute perfection. But who would have ever expected this?  
  
_And so I'm borrowing a love song from the birds;_  
_To tell you that you're marvelous—too marvelous for words._  
  
The bass player took up a solo, but Data's performance was far from over. He snapped in time, tapping his feet in a little dance. He looked at Deanna and nodded at her. She nodded back. He winked, at which point she giggled. He gestured with his eyes and the point of his chin. The invitation couldn't be clearer. Dance?  
Deanna glanced at Worf, who was impassive, so she laughed and stepped out onto the floor.  
Geordi whooped and cheered his friend on. So exciting!  
The trumpet player swung into a cheery solo while they promenaded, oohs and ahs escaping the crowd. A twirl here and there, and more applause. Data didn't dance faster than she could handle; the skill he showed was more in the nuance, the musicality. The dance was dynamic, even playful. There was a growing spontaneity to their moves—Deanna twirled Data and he went right along with it, his smile looking amused, like he understood. No one could account for it.  
No one except Geordi, who watched intently. He didn't think he was one to underestimate his android friend, but maybe he was a bit guilty of it. How in the world was he pulling this off so well?  
Will's trombone solo was last. Data took Deanna into a closer embrace. As the solo ended Data led her into a dramatic backward dip, her eyes wide, intrigued. He looked into her eyes flirtatiously and, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he kissed her.  
Very lightly, he kissed her.  
She looked at him eyes wide, baffled but smiling.  
Without missing a beat, he set her on her feet and tapped his way quickly to the microphone for the last refrain.  
  
_You're much too much, and just too 'very, very';_  
_To ever be in Webster's Dictionary;_  
  
Deanna stood at Worf's elbow, giving him the slightest nudge. Prodding a Klingon, she sure is sure of herself, Geordi thought. He watched them for a moment, seeing the way she leaned into his shoulder. Subtle reassurance, perhaps, that it was all in good fun.  
  
_And so I'm borrowing a love song from the birds;_  
_To tell you that you're marvelous—_  
  
Geordi found himself studying all of their friends, everyone but Data. People were loving this. This act. Only  
Geordi knew that Data's smiles were more than mimicry. And where did the act end and real life begin again? When it did end he would have to face what it all meant.  
He finally looked at Data. He looked amazing. He was happy; actually happy! Why didn't Geordi feel happy for him?  
  
_Tell you that you're marvelous—_  
_Tell you that you're marvelous—too marvelous for words!_  
  
Thunderous applause followed, the performers bowing in turn and encouraging one another to take another bow. Geordi clapped and whistled, giving it his best. He really was happy for him, he just felt mixed up too. The cheering continued. A few of their friends suggested, "Encore!"  
Data and Will looked at each other; Will nodded with a huge smile, Data shrugged. The android addressed the party-goers. "Any requests?" It was his voice, not Sinatra. Geordi felt unaccountably relieved at this fact.  
Captain Picard looked around before replying, "I think 'Something's Gotta Give' would do nicely. If Mister Sinatra agrees?"  
Data tilted his head mechanically, accessing. He's got a library in there, I should have asked the band, Picard thought. But Data took care of it with a look, the band nodding in reply. "Good choice, Captain. One and a two and a—"  
And on they went.  
  
_When an irresistible force such as you;_  
_Meets an old immovable object like me;_  
_You can bet just as sure as you live;_  
_Something's gotta give, something's gotta give, something's gotta give._  
  
This time, almost everyone started dancing. Guinan even managed to get Picard onto the floor. It was Beverly who came for Geordi; he tried not to show his grimace outwardly, and submitted gracefully to the dancing doctor.  
  
_When an irrepressible smile such as yours;_  
_Warms an old implacable heart such as mine;_  
_Don't say no because I insist;_  
_Somewhere, somehow, someone's gotta be kissed!_  
  
"Full of surprises tonight, isn't he?" Beverly shouted over the din.  
"Uh, yeah, I'll say."  
"I taught him to dance once, and I tell you what, he has improved immeasurably," she laughed. "I bet he wouldn't be stepping on my feet now!"  
"He was great," Geordi replied unconvincingly.  
Really, he was grateful for Beverly's company, her banter. The alternative left him focusing too keenly on the song Data was singing, and the twist in his stomach  
  
_So, en garde, who knows what the fates might have in store;_  
_From their vast mysterious sky;_  
_I'll try hard ignorin' those lips that I adore;_  
_But how long can anyone try?_  
  
Where the hell did this song come from? It felt like salt in a wound Geordi hadn't known he had. But he couldn't complain. After all, whose idea had this been but his own. Geordi wanted to smack himself for his self-centered gloom.  
Beverly noticed her dancing partner's sigh and studied him a moment.  
"Are you alright, Geordi?"  
"Yeah, I'm—great. I kinda put him up to it, you know. The singing bit. He and Will took it from there. But he surprised even me!" He forced an unconvincing smile.  
  
_Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight it with all of our might;_  
_Chances are some heavenly star-spangled night;_  
_We'll find out just as sure as we live;_  
_Something's gotta give, something's gotta give, something's gotta give!_  
  
"Did you and Data get in a fight?"  
"No!" He raised his voice a bit too much, turning heads. He reigned it in. "No, it's nothing like that. I'm in a weird mood I guess, I'm sorry."  
"I don't buy it, Geordi. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."  
Geordi stared at her.  
"And if that's the case, it's okay, because it means you care. But you should talk to him about it."  
"I..."  
"Think about it," she winked.  
The song ended, with more cheers for Data, Will, and the trio.  
Everyone clapped, Geordi included, though he found himself looking in Beverley's direction with too sour an expression.  
Geordi hung back and watched while Data and Will rejoined their friends, the trio continuing with a more mellow repertoire. Data looked for and spotted Geordi, seeming to wonder why he was so far away. He tried to come his way but was held up again, this time by Picard and Guinan. Then Worf and Deanna. Everyone was telling Data how amazing his act was. And they were right—it was flawless. He was flawless.  
Data kept looking over at Geordi. He asked a question with his eyes that made Geordi want to shrink further away. Geordi read the words on his lips, "Would you excuse me," and knew he might as well meet him halfway. It was only a matter of time now.  
Data's expression was neutral as ever. Geordi wondered what new feelings he was wading through.  
"Geordi, what did you think?"  
Geordi hugged him, slapping his back to keep it casual.  
"Wonderful, wonderful. I told you you were charming. When are you going to learn to believe me?"  
"Now it is you who are not giving me credit where due. There have been notably few occasions on which I have not trusted your opinion implicitly."  
"Denying you had emotions was a pretty epic one, though."  
Data grinned. "Granted," he said. "I am sorry I did not listen to you sooner."  
"It's okay."  
"I have not yet told anyone else. No one cornered me with the question tonight. I suppose they have seen me perform before, it might not look any different when I am also enjoying it."  
"You sure were having fun."  
"I was. Though for a moment I thought I might be about to be slapped."  
"Deanna?"  
"Indeed."  
"I don't think that was her reaction at all."  
"I gathered that once it had passed, but when the thought occurred to me to do it, I felt it was a fifty-fifty chance the scene would turn out differently."  
"But you did it anyway."  
"I decided it was harmless. It seemed like a risk worth taking."  
"I see. Huh, well, you do know Worf has been courting Deanna, don't you?"  
"Really?" Data replied cheerily. "I was not aware of that development in their relationship. Excellent." Then he looked worried. "Geordi, do you think I must make clear to Worf that I have no romantic intentions towards the Counselor?"  
"I don't think so, Data. I think if he thought you were the competition," Geordi forced a serious tone, "I would already be finding pieces of you all over the ship."  
"Understood."  
"So you might want to aim your risky behavior at someone else in the future."  
Geordi meant it as a playful hint, but Data was looking across the room at their friends.  
"Earth to Data? Did you hear me?"  
"I am sorry, Geordi, I was distracted. Will was telling Beverly and the Captain about the scheming that led to this. I admit I was eavesdropping. You were saying?"  
"Nothing," Geordi muttered.  
Data didn't press. He had something else he wanted to talk about.  
"I already feel like these emotions have become an indespensible part of myself. I honestly have a difficult time comprehending how I managed to interact with any of you before. I was lucky to have any friends at all."  
Geordi felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him.  
Any friends? He thought. Any friends at all. And what am I, then, the best you could get? And does it matter? Sounds like that's all in the past now. Maybe it is.  
I waited years to see that look of understanding in your eyes, to know that you could feel something. Then I could tell you how I felt about you.  
You can't recognize yourself now? I can't recognize you either, he thought bitterly.  
"Geordi?"  
"What, Data."  
"Did I say something wrong?"  
"Hmm I don't know. I guess my mind is wandering too. I'm beat. You have fun, I'm gonna get some sleep."  
Geordi left without saying goodbye to anyone.  
Deanna's eyes veered towards the unmistakable impression of Geordi's mind, reeling in agony. By the time her eyes followed him, the doors were already closing. He was gone.  
She looked at Data and saw him looking after his friend. He stared at nothing for a long time.


	3. Main Engineering

Geordi contemplated the diagnostic readout. It was a quiet afternoon in Main Engineering, leaving Geordi to work on some fine-tuning he had been meaning to get to for a month. Unfortunately, his adjustments weren't moving the needle as much as he hoped.  
On top of that, he was running out of tasks to keep him busy, and he desperately needed to keep himself busy. Geordi usually enjoyed pulling the best performance that he could out of these systems, but his heart wasn't in it today.  
Data had been working on the sensor array, making modifications so that the Astronomy II lab team would be better able to study the Chrona nebula where they were due to arrive in several days. Data was determined to get this work done ahead of schedule before his shuttle departed for four days in the Modin system. He heard Geordi sigh for the third time in under ten minutes. Sensing a new emotion of concern, he reviewed Geordi's behavior during the last several hours and detected many indications of irritation. Combined with the uneasy feeling he had left Deanna's party with, Data's concern only grew. He decided to approach his friend and find out if he could help in some way.  
"Geordi?"  
"Yes, Data."  
"What is the matter?"  
"Nothing."  
Data cocked his head. "Over the last two hours I have observed many signs that you may be frustrated, or otherwise unpleasantly distracted. Perhaps it would help you to talk about the situation that is bothering you?"  
"Well, I'm a little disappointed that the realignment didn't make a difference. But no, I'm fine." He looked at Data, finding the android unconvinced. "Really."  
"I thought something else might be bothering you."  
Geordi looked back at him blankly.  
"Geordi," Data began with hesitation, "was my behavior at Deanna's birthday party inappropriate?"  
"No, Data, not at all. You were amazing," Geordi smiled warmly, "the talk of the town."  
"But you have given indications of discomfort ever since the party. I am concerned that something I did during my performance has hurt your feelings."  
Geordi kept his face as blank as possible. He could not believe they were having this conversation in Main Engineering, but there were no other crewmen in their immediate vicinity. Somehow that didn't settle Geordi's nerves at all.  
Data continued, "My theory is that I offended you when I danced with Deanna. Not the dancing per se, but when performed the romantic gesture of a dip and a kiss. Before the party I took the time to study many Earth performances of this style of music and observed that the most successful 'showmen' included elements of this sort..." Data trailed off realizing that Geordi was not appreciating this exploration of cultural context. Not at all."  
"Geordi," he began again, "I want you to know that if I had known it would bother you, I—"  
"Data. I'm not your boyfriend. I think you've got the wrong idea."  
Data studied his face. There was some emotion there that he could not read.  
"That is not..." Data began, finding himself at a loss for words. That is not what? Not the point; not at issue; not what I thought you meant; not what I am thinking; not what I was hoping? None of these statements were precisely untrue, but neither were they quite true. It simply had not occurred to him that way. But could he say this?  
"That is," Data began again, "not what I was going to say. Regardless, you are my closest friend, and I never intended to create a situation that would make you uncomfortable."  
Geordi frowned, but in that way he does when he is about to admit something personal. Data felt heartened that he might be getting through to his friend after all.  
"It was... different. You were different. I didn't know what to think. I've never known you to be someone who just does something like that. Like, playfully."  
"And you didn't like it."  
"No, I didn't say that. You were having _fun_ and I could see that. I love that. But it... surprised me. You kept surprising me. Like, everything you said after, as well. And I'm someone who, you know, knows you better than anyone. I mean, how different are you going to be with this new program you're working on?"  
"I do not think I am different at all. I think that achieving a better understanding of social dynamics is allowing me to choose how I want to engage with others, when I previously did not know how to navigate these dynamics. My range of potential behaviors will better reflect who I am, rather than being limited to what I know."  
Geordi's mouth hung slightly open.  
_Wow. Of course. I am an asshole._  
Geordi claimed to be Data's best friend, and here he was being so selfish.  
_How can I deny him this? He's just trying to be who he always wanted to be, and I feel threatened. Like I feel like he's going to forget me. Well, so be it, if that's what it takes._  
_What Data needs right now is a friend. And if I'm not able to be that, I'd better just get out of the way._  
As the shock passed from Geordi's face it was replaced with a heartfelt look of recognition. He carefully formed it into a smile, albeit a wistful one.  
"My god, Data, when you put it like that. I'm so happy for you," he laid a hand on Data's shoulder. "I don't know how I didn't see that coming, but it makes complete sense."  
A smile tugged at Data's mouth, but his expression remained one of concern. Geordi's feelings mattered a great deal to him; he knew this long before he discovered feelings of his own.  
"Hey, um, do you feel like celebrating? Because we haven't had the chance to, and you growing into your emotions, well, seems like a special occasion."  
"I had not thought of it. I do not yet recognize what it is like to 'feel like celebrating.' What do you suggest?"  
"I'm not sure. I'll think about it. I'm really sorry about how I was acting. I'm embarrassed, really. Maybe all this change was a little fast for me. But I get it now, okay? I get it."  
His smile was a bit more convincing now.  
"Do not apologize, Geordi. As long as we are okay."  
Geordi nodded and patted his shoulder.


	4. Counselor's Office

"Emotion, Data?" Deanna's expression was one of enormous surprise.  
There was so much to catch others up to, but luckily Data was not easily bored. He walked Deanna though 'the short version' of his discovery of emotion and subsequent emotion program.  
"Is that why your social behavior has been more... experimental?"  
"Yes, Counselor."  
She considered something.  
"Has the nature of your relationship with Geordi changed?"  
Data looked puzzled. "Geordi and I are friends as before. Perhaps I do not understand the question, Counselor. What exactly are you asking?"  
"If you don't know what I'm asking, Data, then I think the answer is no. I was wondering if you had become intimate with Geordi."  
"No. What led you to that conclusion?"  
"Honestly, Data, I am trying to understand the source of a conflict that I sense in him. If your status together has not changed, then it stands to reason that he is struggling with other changes in your behavior."  
"He did seem upset after I kissed you during the performance. But we talked about that, and he said it was just that I had surprised him."  
"Do you believe that he felt comfortable telling you everything that was on his mind?"  
Data hesitated. "No. I do think he only told me a portion. But he put a good deal of energy into encouraging me. It did not occur to me that the rest of what he did not say may have indicated the opposite."  
"He may have decided he should protect your feelings."  
Data looked concerned.  
"Data, what were you two talking about at my birthday party, just before he left?"  
Data replayed the memory.  
"He told me he thought it risky that I kissed you when Worf was making his feelings for you increasingly clear. I told him I was happy for you, and asked whether I should make clear I had no intention of pursuing you. He made a joke about finding pieces of me all over the ship. Then I did not hear something that he said because I was listening to another conversation—"  
"—Now that doesn't sound like you, Data."  
"I know, Counselor. I apologized to him but he did not repeat what he said. I then told him that my discovery of emotion already seemed indispensable to me, and that I could not comprehend how I managed to interact with my friends without emotion."  
"Oh, Data. Do you think that could have been taken in a way you did not intend?"  
Data stared at her, uncomprehending.  
"That sounds somewhat... dismissive, don't you think?"  
"That was not my intention."  
"Certainly not, Data. What else did you say?"  
Suddenly he frowned, he eyes flicked to meet hers. "Oh dear. I said, I was lucky to have any friends at all."  
Deanna's eyebrows raised a millimeter, confirming Data's concern.  
"He must be very upset with me."  
"How do you interpret it, looking back?"  
"I thought I was disparaging myself. But inadvertently I disparaged those who had befriended me during the time that I had no emotions. That implies I had my eyes set on some other pursuit. That I was setting aside the past. Geordi feels like a part of my past."  
Data was speaking quite robotically. Deanna always knew something was wrong when Data acted less like a person and more like a machine.  
"Data, what are you feeling right now?"  
"I think you would call it... distress. I hurt him badly. I feel I have to go and fix this immediately."  
"Data, don't panic."  
"Ah, yes, panic. That is the word."  
"Shh, breathe. You need to calm down. You are very vulnerable right now, and so is he. You will have to gather your own stability in order to not just feed the flames."  
"You are suggesting I may make him feel worse if I speak without thinking. I fear that is what I did yesterday."  
"What happened?"  
"I sensed that he was upset with me. I assumed it was about the kiss. He said that was not the issue, but admitted that he did not like being so surprised by me. By my behaviors that night. He said he knows me better than anyone, which is true."  
"And your response?"  
He repeated his precise wording for her: "I do not think I am different at all. I think that achieving a better understanding of social dynamics is allowing me to choose how I want to engage with others, when I previously did not know how. My range of potential behaviors will better reflect who I am, rather than being limited to what I know."  
She nodded.  
"How much more damage have I done?"  
"I do not know, Data. On the one hand, that is very precise and expressive. You gave him a lot of important information there. I bet that he looked at you like he understood you perfectly?"  
"Correct."  
"And yet the additional piece that he understood, which he added himself from his own worst fears, could be that he was limiting you, holding you back, by expecting you to be a certain way with him. A true friend would only want what is best for you, right?"  
"He is my true friend."  
"A true friend who was struggling with a selfish little feeling at just the wrong moment. You have to forgive him his high standards, Data. You set an intimidating example."  
Data looked startled. "I have never heard that before. And Geordi never held me back; it is the opposite. He has always encouraged me, more than any other single person ever has. And I... do not follow what his selfish feeling was about?"  
"To figure that out, we need to examine your own feelings further."  
Data thought hard. "I consider Geordi my best friend. I do not feel the same way about that friendship as I do others. It is unique."  
"What is different about it?"  
"When I have something important on my mind, I want to tell him right away. When I want to talk about something private or confusing, I trust him to be there for me. When he is unhappy with me, it is extremely unsettling; I do everything I can to fix it. He is always sensitive to what I am thinking, how I am thinking it; in fact, he understood me better than I did myself. If he had not pressed for years at what he saw as my emotional states, I may never have understood them for what they are."  
"Do you feel Geordi would describe your friendship in the same way?"  
"Yes, but, he would also say that he felt he was letting me down when he did not understand me, or when he could not help me understand something human. He always felt responsible for building that bridge. And I am grateful to him for that, because without it I would be back where I started."  
"Do you think he's proud of being your friend?"  
He considered. "Yes. He said so."  
"Do you think he could feel a little bit protective, even possessive, of that? That you have something special?"  
"I thought maybe so. But he rejected the notion that I owed him some loyalty."  
"What did he say?"  
"He said, 'I am not your boyfriend,' and also, 'I think you have got the wrong idea.'"  
"How did his words make you feel?"  
"Confused. I was expressing concern for his feelings and telling him he was my priority, in a sense. He seemed affronted by that. I thought he was rejecting my implied claim on him. I had not meant to imply it, but neither did it 'feel good' to have it rejected."  
"Have you considered that he could have been saying the opposite?"  
"It is indeed ambiguous."  
"He may have been restating what he took to be your rejection of him."  
Data looked up from his lap, meeting Deanna's eyes through his eyelashes.  
"I believe you are correct."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of this "My Enterprise" fic is admittedly some of my early writing, from a while before Emotional Rendering. I've got a lot of old stuff that I've never posted before. (And I wish I'd posted more of it online, because I recently discovered a lot of old files were lost.)
> 
> Rereading this older stuff and getting the confidence to post it anyway has been really fun, high drama and all. I hope you enjoy it!


	5. Geordi's Quarters

_"Data to Geordi, are you there?"_

"Yes Data, what is it?"

_"I was hoping to speak with you. May I come over?"_

"Uh, Data, I don't think so. Now isn't a good time. Can we talk later?"

_"It is important to me, Geordi." There was silence on the line. "Please?"_

"I don't understand, what is this about?"

_"I need to talk to you about... our relationship."_

There was another pregnant pause, but at last Geordi gave in. "Of course."

\--

When Data entered Geordi's quarters, the place was a bit of a mess. Items ranging from PADDs to dishes to fragments of his cowboy costume lay in places they clearly didn't belong. This alone did not bother Data, not really, despite his own tendencies towards orderliness. What troubled him was how it confirmed his suspicions that Geordi had been out-of-sorts since the night of the party.

Geordi stood across the room from him, probably too agitated to sit down.

What he saw explained Geordi's reluctance to invite him over right now. Not the mess in his quarters, no, that didn't matter. The reason lay plainly on his face. Unmistakably, the human had washed his face within the last minute, almost certainly to remove evidence that he had been crying, but Data could still see the traces of salt left behind.

His friend was in pain, and Data was responsible for it. Knowledge of this pierced him with an emotion he couldn't place. Sadness, hope and fear, and great urgency. Panic?

Geordi made no attempt to hide his mood. Instead, he masked it in irritation. His sadness risked exposing him, but anger he could use as a shield. Data made note of these things as quickly as an android could. He would need all the information within his grasp to get through this without some disastrous mistake.

"Geordi, I am so sorry for how I have upset you. I had no idea, or I never, never would have—"

"We already talked about that. Is that why you're here? I'm really not feeling up to this—this conversation, Data. Not right now. Seriously."

"But we have not really talked about it. Not the truth."

"You won't take no for an answer, will you?" Geordi demanded, his voice cracking.

Data paused. "Of course I will," he said carefully, "but I do not know what you are saying 'no' to. I hope you are not saying 'no' to 'us.'"

Geordi swayed a bit, stunned. The anger melted out of him, replaced with confusion and more of that pain Data had seen. "I... I..."

Instinctively, Data closed the distance between them. Geordi straightened, uncertain what to do, what to feel. Data made it simple for him; he wrapped Geordi in an embrace, pulling the man to his chest, resting his cheek against the shorter man's temple. His hands held him firmly, brooking no argument. Data made a point of breathing deeply and slowly to calm Geordi's ragged nerves.

Geordi transformed in ways Data could not have even imagined. At first stiff, reluctant, doubtful, then just the opposite. He relaxed into Data's embrace, becoming supple, holding him in return. In another moment he sighed and grasped him even tighter. The slight tremble in his breathing was the only sign of his distress to remain. Perhaps that was not distress either, Data considered. It might be excitement.

Data kept his firm grip with his right arm around the man's lower back. He allowed himself to move his left hand from where he held his shoulder, stroking his upper back through the thick uniform fabric with light fingers. He felt a tremor move through Geordi; perhaps it was too much? He didn't want to make the man uncomfortable again, didn't want to push his boundaries.

But Data wanted so badly to touch him. Data stroked the nape of his neck with light, tender fingertips. Would Geordi tell him if this was not what he wanted?  
Was it true what Geordi had said, that he went too far, that he overlooked signs that he should read as a 'no'? He could not accept that, not really, but doubt lingered. He desperately hoped he would see those signs if they were there, unspoken. But so far he felt Geordi yielding, accepting.  
For all the world he thought the man wanted more.

Data caressed his cheek, trailing his fingers behind his ear and down the man's neck. Geordi shuddered and seemed to hold his breath. Was this the sign to go no further? Or was he still just trying to hide, for some reason Data could not fathom?

"Geordi," Data said softly near his friend's ear. "Would you prefer that I stop?"

The man gasped softly. "No, I... I just need to understand. Why..."

Data inhaled gently and squeezed his friend tighter. He wanted to say everything at once, but he took an android's sweet time to select the most important sentiments.

"You are very special to me. I did not really know what it meant. I hope you will forgive me not understanding my own feelings, feelings I literally could not recognize until the last two days. But I learn quickly. I hope you can be patient with me, just a short while longer. I hate to ask this of you; no one has been as patient with me as you have been. But please do not give up on me now."

His words had a remarkable effect. He could almost hear his best friend's heart break open as the truth spilled out of him as fast as he could speak.

"Anything you need, Data. Anything. I swear I would never give up on you. I was hurt and scared, Data, but I'm not going anywhere. I have never loved anyone like I love you. You must know that. I know that you know that. I'm sorry I couldn't just say it. But now you know... everything."

"Only I do not know why you did not tell me before."

"I thought I was protecting our friendship. I was wrong; this is our friendship. I won't make that mistake again." Geordi's chest heaved. Data clutched him tighter.

"Shh, no judgment, Geordi. I do not expect that either of us really knows how to do this," Data hoped his smile was heard in his voice.

Ah, it must have been, as Geordi laughed, burying his face in Data's neck.


End file.
